


Anchor Me

by ToukoTai



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Everyone lives, Gen, except wash, freelancer era, semi graphic death wound
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-29
Updated: 2014-11-28
Packaged: 2018-02-27 09:30:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2687768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToukoTai/pseuds/ToukoTai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s a weight she will gladly carry for the rest of her life.</p>
<p>crossposted from tumblr</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by a tumblr post asking to be trolled in such a way. Yes, I did this for the lolz and a fandom cried. My bad.

Carolina can’t believe it. Doesn’t want to believe it. CT had tried to warn her about Maine, had said he was getting more and more unstable and Carolina buried her head in the sand and wrote it all off to AI integration problems. But then Maine snapped, she doesn’t know what set him off, what Sigma had said or done, but it was definitely sigma. She can practically hear his gloating laugh.

It was right after a mission as they were grouped for extraction, coming down from the adrenalin. They were waiting for Washington and Maine. Maine had come out of nowhere and tried to take York’s head off. And then Washington was there.

"It’s not Maine," He’d shouted at her over the coms. "It’s Sigma!" He was panting, clearly having run after Maine/Sigma. The fight that followed was not their best. Maine knew all their moves, and they were too confused (kill or capture?) and disorientated (ally or enemy?) to correctly counter him. South rallied the best, but Maine was single focused on York. And York, not the best at hand to hand was flagging hard.

Washington had jumped on Maine’s back and was hissing something at him under his breath. But Maine threw him off, and unhooked his brute shot. By the time Washington was back on his feet and going for maine again, the other agent was ready for him. It was a single fluid motion, that Maine blocked the combat knife Wash had pulled and then reversed his grip to bring the blade of brute shot slicing into Washington’s torso.

Carolina heard Wash’s strangled gasp, turned into a gurgle, saw the blade bite through the armor, deep into his side and get stuck halfway through. Saw Wash’s hands come up to grip weakly at the knife edge, his knees buckle and the blade is the only thing keeping him upright.

She’s frozen as Maine kicks the grey armored body off his brute shot’s knife edge. It hits the ground and rolls, comes to a stop, with blood leaking out from under the armor and the giant gash in his side. South and North practically roar and charge him. CT isn’t that far behind them, darting low to the ground, combat knives out. Carolina unfreezes as York scrambles over to Wash’s side. She can already tell from the med readouts in her HUD, Washington’s done. He’s been practically cut in half, his spinal column halfway severed, intestines only held in place by the composite suit. The damage is too severe for York’s healing unit to do much of anything except provide pain relief. And he’d bleed out before extraction can make it.

She’s aware that North, South and CT are containing Maine, Wyoming and Florida are waiting for the shot. It’s to her to make the final call. She wants Sigma for this, not Maine.

"Knock him out." She says, voice firm despite the shaking of her fingers and starts the trek to Washington’s side. Behind her, she hears Maine’s growl and South’s snarl. North’s voice and Theta’s chiming in. And then the sound of sniper-shots from Wyoming, the static crackle of Maine’s suit’s shields going down. She reaches York, kneeling net to Wash, gripping his hand tight with both of his own as Delta stayed a silent observer.

"York." He looks up at her. "Get Maine’s lockdown commands in. I know you have them." York just nods, puts Wash’s hand gently down on his chest and starts to the fray. Carolina kneels in his place.

She can hear Wash’s ragged breathing through the filter. She reaches out, struck with the thought that she doesn’t want the last things he sees to be through an HUD. His helmet comes off with a hiss, his hair is a mess, he always had worse helmet hair then anyone else. His eyes are closed, but when she puts his helmet aside, he opens them. Grey eyes, the color of storm clouds, looks up at her. She pulls off her own helmet for the same reason. She doesn’t want the last time he sees her to be a faceless helmet.

He smiles up at her weakly, breathing only getting worse. She grabs the hand York folded on his chest, feels him squeeze back.

"Think I messed up boss." He says quietly. She nods once.

"You could have been faster." She agrees, he smiles a little wider at her and then suddenly frowns.

"Don’t take this out on Maine." He gets out, voice going quieter. "It’s not his fault." She squeezes his hand.

"I know. York is taking care of it." Wash blinks a few times, he’s fading fast Carolina knows. "Just a few more days Wash, and you would have had an AI." He laughs, and then coughs.

"Guess South will just have to make do." He manages. His grip is weaker now, his breathing harder. Not long now. Carolina ran a gloved hand over Washington’s cheek.

"You were good Wash, one of the best. We’ll keep a spot open for you, always." Blood is pooling under his body and reaching her knees. He nods, and closes his eyes. His last breath is a tried gasp. She stays kneeling, holding his hand until York comes back, CT behind him.

"It’s done?" She asks, proud that her voice doesn’t shake. CT nods.

"Lockdown was a success, he won’t be moving anytime soon, we pulled sigma." Carolina lays Washington’s hand on his chest.

"Good. Then we follow Freelancer Protocol."

No one says anything when Carolina takes Washington’s helmet with them. Even though it’s against Freelancer Protocol.

When Maine returns to the active roster, his armor is colored grey and his helmet had been switched with Washington’s. The yellow accents have been covered over with his orange ones though. No one says anything.

When they leave project freelancer, they tear it apart in their wake. The ship goes down in a brilliant ball of fire and smoke. Carolina thinks it’s a fitting end. She didn’t pay attention to the signs the first time and Washington paid the price. She wasn’t about to ignore them the second time.

Under her armor, pressing against her breastbone is an extra dogtag. To remind her, not to let her ambitions cloud her judgement, stop her from seeing what’s right in front of her face. To listen next time and the time after that. It’s a weight she will gladly carry for the rest of her life. It’s a reminder wrapped up with blond hair and grey eyes and sheepish smile.

She turns her attention to the future, there’s still a war on, there’s always work for elite mercenaries, like themselves. It’s time to start doing _right_ again


	2. BONUS

"I thought you said there were ten of you." Tucker accuses, looking around at the various Freelancer agents unloading supplies and checking weapons. No matter how he counts, there’s only eight agents and one pilot. Tex is accounted for, but that’s only one missing agent.

"No." Carolina says shortly. "I said there are ten Freelancers."

"Yeah, uh, same thing…?" Grif moves slightly over as the big dark grey and orange armored agent next to him began a low rattling growl.

"No." Carolina says again, double checking her gun. "It’s not. Agent Washington won’t be joining us."

"What? Did he fuck off and leave you guys on your own or something? It’s kinda all hands on deck situatio-" Tucker was cut off suddenly. But being tackled by someone twice your size does that.

"Maine!" It takes North, South and York to haul Maine off. He growls into the sand, helmet mashed into the ground, with North and South sitting on him and York talking to him in low tones. Tucker lays dazed on his back, staring up at the sky. Carolina crouches down next to him. Her voice is flat and deadly.

"Agent Washington won’t be joining us because he’s dead." She tells him. "Rest assured, we won’t stop until there’s nothing left of Freelancer. It’s the least we can do, since the dead don't come back."


End file.
